


Cyberhearts

by mewsomniac



Category: Cyberpunk 2077 (Video Game), Kingdom Hearts (Video Games)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Adventure & Romance, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Cyberpunk, Alternate Universe - Future, Alternate Universe - Gangsters, Alternate Universe - Police, Alternate Universe - Science Fiction, Attraction, Cybernetics, Eventual Romance, Flirting, Lemon, M/M, POV First Person, Romance, Science Fiction, Sexual Content, Sexual Tension, SoRoku Week, Yaoi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-15
Updated: 2021-02-15
Packaged: 2021-03-17 06:27:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,101
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29467254
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mewsomniac/pseuds/mewsomniac
Summary: I do what I can to keep the peace in Night City. Lately, it's been a lonely job. After all, Beat Partollers are rarely alone, and I'm recently down a partner. Fortunately, I think I found someone to fill my passenger seat. Unfortunately, our arrangement might not be very legal. He's affiliated with a gang, a scary-good netrunner, and has eyes that set my circuits to overload... but since when have most cops in Night City ever played by the rules? [Kingdom Hearts / Cyberpunk 2077 crossover AU. SoRoku with implied AkuRoku and SoRiku. Rated explicit for oncoming lemons.]
Relationships: Roxas & Sora (Kingdom Hearts), Roxas/Sora (Kingdom Hearts)
Kudos: 6





	Cyberhearts

**Disclaimer:** All characters in this fanfiction are 21 years of age or older. I did a lot of research into police work and Hawai’ian culture, but this fic is definitely not 100% accurate for either. Please forgive any mistakes and leave me some feedback so I can fix them. Thanks!

**For readers who are 18+ ONLY:**

An M-rated version is also available to read on FF.n, dA, and AO3 if you'd like. 

* * *

**Cyberhearts**

**1.0**

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* * *

I wasn’t going to take the call that day. It crackled out from the radio, dispatch giving the cross-streets and a clear warning to those who may dare to arrive. Responding to street crimes was dangerous enough with any number of reinforcements, so going it alone was downright idiotic.

But I responded anyway. I activated the sirens on my cruiser and didn’t give it a second thought. I always operated better alone anyway. At least, that’s what I kept telling myself as I stole glances at the empty seat next to me.

Dispatch said there was evidence that needed to be found. A valuable shard of some kind stolen, and now lives were hanging in the balance. It wasn’t uncommon for a small cluster from a gang to steal something and then take hostages while they figured out what came next. Sometimes, sirens were enough to distract them from the hostage-holding part and turn their attention to the oncoming police. On the rare occasion, though, this raised the stakes for especially severe sadists.

Fortunately, neither mattered much since I was a great shot. Plus, I almost always bring in my marks alive, too. I’m no netrunner—my talents lie in the meat-space—but filing e-paperwork is a breeze and hardly an afterthought. I don’t often hesitate.

When I pulled up, though, there was hardly a sigh on the breeze.

The night air was eerily calm all around me. The glow of advertisements overhead flickered across the scene. There were bodies strewn everywhere. Among them, kneeling with his back to me, was one conscious man clad in black and digging around for something. His jacket was plain black leather with a single emblem: a white spiked upside-down heart.

The Nobodies.

I hardly recognized such a rare sight. This wasn’t really their turf. They almost never came this far north. Also, if a gang member beat me to a street crime, it means he was close enough to snag the signal and handle it. No threat to me, then… but my hand hovered over my holstered gun anyway.

“‘Scuse me,” I said to him. I didn’t really have a follow-up, I mostly just wanted to assure myself he was cognizant, friendly, or sane.

The kneeling man paused in his efforts, back straightening. My eyes caught the chipped black polish of his fingers as he lifted his opened hands, signaling peace. He rose slowly, and turned to me. The ads around us made the silver studs lining both ears flicker. A black barbell was apparent in a blond eyebrow. There wasn’t a scratch on him.

He asked me, “First responder?”

I shook my head, “Just a Beat Patroller in the area.”

The eyebrow piercing rose, “A Beat Patroller? Alone?”

Somehow, this stung. I relaxed my stance and redirected with, “You can put your hands down now.”

He did so, his pupils darting briefly as the leather of his jacket shifted downwards.

“Precinct 3... You’re a Kingsman.”

I knew right then what was up and had to hold in a snort. Damn Netrunners, always showing off. As for the comment, I’d heard us called that many times. The Kingsmen... it made us sound like we were a gang. But we’re NCPD. Captain Mick King wasn’t some slumlord, and hell, he certainly didn’t act that way either.

“It’s a cute nickname, but... I’m not particularly into it.”

“Right. You’re certainly not the royal guard…” Finger tapping chin, a tilt of the head. “A prince, maybe?” He smirked, and it cut the light and shadows on his face into a certain angle. A little sharper, a tad more severe. It made him look bold, brash… mischievous. It made me want to learn more, but it told me to tread lightly.

He stepped forward and held out a fist. Puzzled, I reached out, my fingerless gloves exposing me to the smallest aura of warmth as my hand hovered below his. Then, he dropped a shard in my hand.

“Found it on rat-tail over here,” he jerked his head to one squirming mass to his far right. “Cracked it for you too. Guy’s KOed but he should be talking within the hour.”

“Who are you?”

“Call me Roxas. Need a statement from me?”

Part of me really didn’t want to say no, but the truth was, us cops rarely took statements from citizens that did our dirty work. We just sent them the creds and stole the glory. I tried not to sound disappointed as I told him, “Not this time.”

Roxas gave me a half-shrug and a lazy salute. “Catch you later, then... Prince Sora.”

As he casually strut away, I couldn’t help but think about how bad I was at treading lightly.

* * *

The fifth time we ran into each other, I really wondered what the universe had in store for us... if anything at all.

It was rare that I had a passing thought after meeting most gangsters. Same that most gangsters might think little of every badge they pass on the street. Something about Roxas though… his ability to clean up a disturbance in record time… impressive. It wasn’t just that, though. Each time we met, I was just so captivated by his competent nonchalance. His gaze felt like the edge of a knife. I should have stiffened my spine, snapped out demands for answers like an angry dog. Instead, it felt like my circuits were fried. Is there a quickhack that can do that? Make your brain just… grind to a slow halt like that?

On this day, the sun was setting. The last bits of light were fighting against the glow of the city. When I got there, he was leaning against a vending machine, certainly looking out at his handiwork. After exiting my vehicle, I approached him and took in the scene. Bodies were once again scattered about and the late day air was serene.

“Looks like I’m still doing your dirty work here, my dear prince.” His cool voice said.

I didn’t need to scan the bodies to notice these gangsters, or hooligans, or whatever, were still breathing. “Not a single flatline,” I admired.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him push off the vending machine. “Unlike some people, I still have a little hope left in the NCPD.”

I looked at Roxas then. **_Really_ ** looked at him. The first few times I’d seen him at a scene like this, he was without a scratch. Now, though, he was riddled with cuts and bruises. A split over the bridge of his nose was already caking with blood. One cheek was swollen and pressing up the corner of an eye. Then, I watched as a drop of blood trailed from his nose and over his lip. The sensation made him arch his cupid’s bow.

“Shit,” He muttered, moving the back of his hand up to staunch the flow.

I gestured to my squad car, “I’ve got a medpack. Let me fix you up.” He was leaning forward, face tilted down, so his blond brows lifted as his eyes met mine. I could see the question in them. I tapped a finger against my temple, “10-12. I’ve got it handled. Will signal for cleanup.”

A voice crackled back, “10-4. Keep us posted.”

His shoulders relaxed. I smirked, “What? Don’t trust all cops?”

He shrugged, hand still pressed upward. His eyes smiled at me. “So far, I think I only trust one.”

Moments later, I was sitting him down in the passenger seat of my squad car. His feet were planted on the pavement, and I was kneeling before him with the medpack balanced on one knee. It was as close as I’d gotten since our first encounter, when he gave me that shard. I had to still my hands to prevent them from visibly shaking. I really hoped that, whatever opticals he had implanted, they weren’t the ones that read vitals.

I fixed up his minor injuries as best as I could. I cracked an insta-icepack for him to hold to his cheek. With his other hand, I had him pinch his nose as I dabbed the blood away. The warmth of him was apparent under the thin alcohol wipe. I made extra-sure, maybe too obviously sure, that the bare skin of my fingers didn’t brush against him. Though his face twitched when I disinfected the cuts, he stayed as still and silent as a sentinel.

Finally, after I pressed a white bandage over the cut across his brow, he spoke up: “What’s with the triangles?”

I glanced down at the pattern on my exposed forearm.

“My people call it _niho manō_.”

I watched his pupils flick to the corner of his vision, then dart back and forth.

“‘Shark teeth?’ You’re Hawaiin then. That explains the tan.”

“Destiny Islands, specifically.” Grinning, I flexed my arm at him. “Do they make me look tough?”

He laughed and it rattled around in my chest, “They make you look pretty tough. And the key?”

I twisted my other forearm around, exposing the antique key. “Well, got a little too drunk one night… blacked out. Had terrible nightmares—absolutely **_terrible_ ** nightmares—that night. Next morning, I see the light, and there’s this giant key here.”

He snorted, “Sounds like the beginning of a really long and strange story.”

I shrugged, “It’s definitely the start of mine.” I closed up the medpack, and he shifted to stand. I stopped him, “Let me give you a ride.”

Roxas blinked at me, “In the backseat, or…?”

I laughed, “Don’t worry, I mean in the passenger seat. You’re not in trouble.”

“Most cops don’t offer me a ride. They just arrest me. What gives?”

It was my turn to blink at him, “You’ve just... walked off every time I’ve hit a scene. Figured I could at least repay you for your hard work with a ride.”

He eyed me warily, “...can I smoke on the way?”

“Sure, I guess.”

Roxas twisted his body to settle into the passenger seat, “I’ll give you directions.”

As we drove south, he did in fact crack the window and light a cigarette. Out of the corner of my eye, I watched the flame illuminate Roxas’ face—his lips pursing to angle the cancer-stick just so. I continued to look as he took a drag of it, mouth forming a perfect O to let out the smoke. It made my own lips feel suddenly dry.

Then, to my suprise, he held the cigarette across the center console to me. “Do you smoke?” He inquired.

The lingering scent of tobacco in the air left my brain buzzing. I quit months ago, and I was ready to politely decline… but then the thought of secondhand mouth contact with the man in my passenger seat sliced away the logic from my mind. I reached two fingers out, taking the cigarette from him. I placed my lips right over the spot where his were, desperate for even the hint of a taste. It made me feel like drinking from a cup of ambrosia and a massive creep all at the same time.

We traded the cancer-stick back and forth as he directed me all the way to Corpo Plaza. It made me check my own biases, as I would have never expected this as his home. Sure, Downtown and part of the Wellsprings was regarded as Nobody territory, but I wasn’t sure of any gang members that actually lived in the Plaza itself… whether they were Nobodies or anyone else.

We pulled up to a red light and Roxas said, “Y‘know, you’re allowed to ask.” He passed the cigarette back to me, forcing me to look in his direction, “It’s written all over your face.”

I couldn’t help but grimace. Was I really so easy to read?

I asked, “Do you live in Corpo Plaza?”

Roxas shook his head as I started to take another drag, saying, “No. I’m staying with… a friend.”

A pause. No… a hesitation. Subtle, but it made the smoke turn sour in my throat. Roxas may have been good at reading faces, but I was just as good at examining voices.

Forcing all essence of expression from my visage, I handed the cigarette back. He took it without meeting my gaze. I exhaled the smoke from my nose, letting the burn distract me from my roiling gut.

The light turned green as Roxas let the next grayish cloud drift from his mouth. This time, with an urgency: “I’m staying with him because my apartment is a bit indisposed right now. But it won’t be for long. Should have everything handled soon.”

I wondered what he was trying to prove with this. I was ready to shove all this nicotine-laced attraction out of my mind, but yet again I was pausing. My tongue went sliding along my bottom lip, an unconscious effort to bring moisture back to the surface.

“Up here, at this corner.” Roxas instructed. Wordlessly, I pulled up to it and clicked my hazards on. The passenger door opened, and the blond extracted himself from the seat. Before he left, though, he propped his forearms against the roof of my squad car and peered in at me. I wasn’t going to look as he left, maybe as some stupid attempt at seeming aloof or cool, but I twisted my torso to face him anyway.

“Thank you, Sora,” His smile met his eyes, which practically glistened with gold under the warm Corpo Plaza lights. “I mean it. You may look tough, but… you’re a really genuine person.”

All the chill in my veins, in one instant, vanished. Suddenly, I was short-circuiting again. Part of me wondered how ridiculous it would be to ask about that quickhack. My face must have been giving me away again, because his smile turned coy. He pushed off the car, ready to leave without another word—

“Wait,” I said, surprising myself with the steadiness of my own voice. “Take my digits. Never know when you need a friend on the force, right?”

He leaned back down to meet my gaze. With a flick of the wrist, I sent him my contact info, watching his pupils dance an electric blue as confirmation he’d received it. He gave a little wave with his index and middle finger still pinching the cigarette. “See you, dear Prince.”

He left me to walk towards the complex we were in front of, looking completely out of place and possibly ready to cause havoc. I watched him go until silver sliding doors swallowed him up, away from my sight, into the clutches of whomsoever this “friend” was. A scowl curled my lip, and I couldn’t help the twist of disappointment twist in my stomach. I clicked the hazards off and, still buzzing from the smoke, drummed my fingers against the steering wheel. I felt foolish… even though I had no right to. The disappointment had been built on a pile of assumptions, and now the whole thing was going up like synthetic furniture in a house fire.

I was ready to write the whole thing off. I’d just begun sequestering Roxas off to the corner of my mind that most gangsters off the street occupy… but a though kept occurring to me. Over and over, bit by bit, syllable by syllable, until it was so deafening in my brain that it smashed apart the last of my nicotine high. If this was a guy he was staying with, that he was “just friends” with… then I might have a chance.

And that was the tiniest of hopes that I simply couldn’t shake.

* * *

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* * *

A/N: Happy belated Valentines/belated SoRoku day!

Well… I started playing Melody of Memory right around the time I started playing Cyberpunk 2077. And, like all my best fanfiction ideas, the plot came to me in a dream. I simply had to start writing this, because it was just too good to pass up.

My plan was to do a one-shot of a bunch of small vignettes, but as I kept writing, the more ideas I had. This was one of those projects that happened in fits and starts, so it was all very disordered. I really wanted feedback on it, because it is technically my first crossover (and it was SoRoku Day yesterday), so I decided I’d post 2-3 vignettes at a time. (Lemons will be on their way eventually, peeps.)

I decided to try a style of storytelling where I do as much showing with as little telling as possible. This chapter isn’t the best representation of that, since it’s setting up the story. But it’s been a really fun and interesting challenge, and I like how it gives an entirely different tone to the fic. Please let me know what you think!

For some updates, check out the second chapter of _Sleeping Late & Lying Awake. _

_References and Inspirations:_

  * _Sora’s cop outfit isn’t explained in detail in this fic, but it’s based off of the Cyberpunk 2077 character Juan Mendez from the sidequest “Happy Together.” In my head, everything is the same, except Sora probably has a police hat and no facial hair. Hope that helps!_
  * _**Disclaimer:** I tried to do as much research as I could into how the police operate, especially the cops from Cyberpunk, but I’m probably way off on many levels. Let me know how I can do better._
  * In my fics, I try to make Sora more apparently Hawai’ian to represent the amazing culture. **Disclaimer:** Admittedly, I’m caucasianm as fuck and I am not at all representative of the culture. I did a lot of research there as well, but if there’s anything I can improve upon, let me know!



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**Thanks for your feedback! Please please PLEASE favorite, review, ask questions, send kudos, add bookmarks… anything!**


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